Clear Glass

I’m very fond of music DVDs. No, not the MTV kind, but the kind where a usually classical artist talks about his work, plays, and we get to follow him around. Sometimes the talent is so overwhelming, it’s hard to picture a Leif Ove Andsnes or Boris Berezovsky inhabiting the same recognizable universe as the rest of us.

While these videos somewhat cut them down to human size, in other ways they elevate these artists—even though they live in the same cities we do, the excellence of their art transforms them and shapes their world. Recently, we had the opportunity to see Glass: A Portrait of Philip in Twelve Parts. I wouldn’t say I was the biggest fan of Philip Glass’s music—I’ve found it hard to listen to, sometimes harsh, and repetitive. But after watching this, and hearing the snippets of pieces in the background throughout the DVD, I feel a serious need to get my hands on some of his works. It’s absolute torture not to hear any complete works while watching the program.

The people surrounding Glass also captured my heart, especially his latest wife. She clearly loves him, and early on is clearly so thrilled that this genius loves her. As time goes on, though, and they have children, she appears to become lonely and filled with longing for a deeper relationship with a man whose deepest relationship is with his music. I wanted to send her a copy of Middlemarch, but I didn’t think it would help her be any happier.

I once heard a Spanish proverb, “Take what you want. Take what you want and pay for it.” Everybody in this film has gone after what they want, and they have all paid, heavily. The music is stunning and complicated, but you will want to hear more of it after watching portrait. I got it from Netflix, but it’s also available on Amazon.